


No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

by Chess_Blackfyre



Series: Galahad Dulak: Space Doctor and Rare Emotionally Stable Jedi [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Skinny Dipping, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chess_Blackfyre/pseuds/Chess_Blackfyre
Summary: "When I was sixteen, I spent an entire summer out here with about fifteen other people from the Medicorps. Lots of long, hot days, cramped quarters and almost constantly running short on medical supplies. Just about the only upside were the natural hot springs."In the aftermath of a long campaign on Dantooine, Galahad and Saint sneak away from camp to go for a swim.
Relationships: CT-4077 | Saint/Galahad Dulak, Original Clone Trooper Character(s)/Original Jedi Character(s)
Series: Galahad Dulak: Space Doctor and Rare Emotionally Stable Jedi [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664269
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is only my second foray into writing smut, so fair warning...

After a long, grueling, _bloody_ month on Dantooine, the 327th’s work was just about done. The Seppies had been sent running, tail between their legs, and the planet would be an excellent staging area for more offenses into the Outer Rim. (And there were always more, more planets to be liberated, more battles to be fought, more brothers to die…)

Of course, Saint wasn’t thinking about battle strategies at this particular moment. Instead, he was taking in the planet’s lush green landscape, and enjoying the feeling of another hand in his. 

As soon as the soldier’s watch had ended, his _cyar’ika_ had found him in the campsite and had asked if he was in the mood for a surprise.

“What kind of surprise?” He asked, more intrigued than he was tired.

Galahad smiled in that particular way of hers. Like she knew exactly where you kept your contraband, but you could never guess where hers was. It was sweet, in its own way. “I want to show you something.”

After asking Kickback to cover for him--his batcher giving them a rather crude grin--the pair of lovers walked off into the Dantooine plains. A sidearm and a lightsaber in case they ran into any trouble, and a small packed bag slung over Galahad’s shoulder. 

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” she smiled, conspiratorial. Saint shrugged and kept walking. He trusted her with his life and with his heart and was curious to see what this ‘secret’ was.

He followed her until they reached an area surrounded by tall, free-standing rocks, rising like pillars out of the tall grass. Just on the edge of the patrol routes, so they would still be within shouting distance of patrolling brothers in case anything happened, but unlikely to be stumbled upon. “These were dragged out here thousands of years ago, according to the local archeologists,” Gal explained. “Probably by some of the planet’s earliest settlers.”

“Neat.” He obligingly looked up and around at them. Not that they weren’t interesting, but he really hoped his _baar’ur_ hadn’t dragged him a few klicks away from base camp just to look at some rocks. That was when the gurgle of bubbling water reached his ears.

Galahad smiled and let him step forward, watching his face for a reaction as he saw what was just beyond the rocks. Neither was disappointed.

A cenote. The ground sloped down towards the natural pool of crystal-clear water, about 10 to 15 meters across, frothing with movement and clearly warm. Steam rose up and evaporated into the evening air.

“Whoa…” Saint took it all in with interest. To someone who’d ever known public shower spaces, this seemed like the most indulgent luxury. And Galahad had brought it here to share it with him.

"When I was sixteen,” she spoke, leading him down to the edge of the water, “I spent an entire summer out here with about fifteen other people from the MediCorps. Lots of long, hot days, cramped quarters and almost constantly running short on medical supplies.” She explained, letting go of his hand and set down her bag. “Just about the only upside were the natural hot springs."

Nodding, Saint continued to stare at the pool, the warm, frothing water. The aquamarine that could not be more different from the dull, grey ocean he had grown up above. A rustling noise and he saw Galahad lifting up the edge of her tunic, the outer layer already deposited on the ground nearby.

Saint’s face flushed. They’d been together several times now but he still couldn’t help but get a thrill of excitement whenever she started taking her clothes off. Maybe because this part of it was still relatively novel. On Felucia, their clothes had stayed on most times, out of concern for the bugs and the plantlife. All he’d really have to do was unbuckle his codpiece. (It had bothered him, in ways he hadn’t expected. Like it was nothing more than an arrangement, a way to blow off steam. His _cyare_ deserved more than quickies behind the medical tent.)

Or maybe it was because of how different her body was from his. She was smaller, paler, curves where he had hard lines. Not weak though, _never_ weak. Everyone in the GAR knew that you never messed with the medic, and that was twice as true when it came to the Jedi healers. 

“Enjoying the view?” Gal asked, a quiet splash as she stepped down into the water, then a heavenly sigh of pleasure.

Oh. Right. He’d been staring.

Saint started undressing. He wasn’t body shy--a lifetime of dressing and undressing surrounded by brothers had stamped that out before it could even take root--but there was still a flush as he removed his armor, and then stripped down to his blacks. Maybe it was all the blood rapidly heading towards his ‘deecee’. He didn’t know how to striptease like someone in one of those contraband holos, but she seemed to enjoy the view. Galahad gazed up at him the whole time, chin resting on arms propped up on the smooth rock, her breasts just underneath the waterline.

She has that look in her eyes again. Like he was the amazing one, the special one, the _precious_ one and not her. It was a look that made his heart feel near to bursting, terrifying, and exhilarating and so much at once. Saint would do anything in the galaxy to feel like he earned it. A particular part of anatomy standing at attention, the soldier went over several strategies to make it up to her, each one dependent on what she was in the mood for. But first, he wanted to enjoy this wonderful gift she’d shown him.

Stepping into the cenote, a sigh escaped his lips as he felt the tension melting out of him. For the first time in weeks, that sharp edge of hypervigilance starts to fade as the hot water melts some of the tension out of his body. Cracking his eyes open, he noticed a few towels folded up and ready for when they were done. Always the planner, his _baar’ur_.

There was a ledge below the water’s surface, either natural or made. It made for a lovely, if firm, place to sit down and enjoy the swirling pool. But why should his lady-love sit on the rock, when a much more comfortable seat was available? With a smug smile, Saint moved the Jedi onto his lap, her lovely behind on top of his thighs. She certainly raised no objections, adjusting herself to get closer to him, seeking that feeling of simple skin contact.

“I like your secret,” he sighs, completely happy. Gal hums in delight and leans down to press a kiss to his sun tattoo, the one that sat over his right pectoral.

Raising her hand out of the water, Saint responded with a kiss of her own to the back of her hand. She always giggled whenever he did that, kissing her the way ‘noble ladies’ of her homeworld were accustomed. Or at least, the way they were in holos--she had left Ciilyra when she was _three_ after all.

With another satisfied sigh, she rests her head where his neck met his shoulder, getting comfortable. He followed her lead, not letting go of her hand. The minutes trickled by as the young lovers sat there, her in his lap, just enjoying the warm water and the feel of each other’s bodies. Her fingers graze up the soft buzz of his undercut before burying themselves in his bleached curls. Saint was still half-hard, but his arousal was more lazy than incessant, and they were both in the mood to take it slow tonight. He’d let her set the pace.

Before long, Galahad leans over and places a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the side of his throat. This lifts him out of the dose but Saint has no complaints. The way she starts going at it over his jugular vein makes him shiver, feeling her marking him up. (Later, he’ll look in the mirror and see that she angled it so the hickie will _just_ peek over the collar of his blacks. She probably did that intentionally, the wicked woman.)

First, she leans over, and pulls him down for a kiss, worrying his lips with hers until he opens and she slips her tongue in. She tasted like fruit but something else uniquely _her._ They break for air. Galahad shifts, still in his lap, but now facing him, her knees on the outside of his.

“Let me take care of you,” she asked, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The underside of his jaw. His neck again. An eager nod. Her hand trails down his chest, his stomach, and then—Oh! Dexterous fingers wrap around the base of his cock— _Oh yes._

His head leans back against the edge of the pool, careful not to brain himself on the rock as Gal begins her first careful strokes. “You’re always so good, _fy nghariad_ ,” she murmurs, and the warmth in him grows at her praise.

This wasn’t anything like last time. Felucia had been all heat and want, rutting together in the jungle foliage. What they’re doing now is softer. Galahad’s hands are slow and gentle, and very _very_ good. She works him up slowly, hand dragging up and down his length as Saint begs for more. His back arches obscenely as his thrusts his hips, slowly fucking into her hand as she whispers praise into his ear.

“I want to try something…” she whispers in his ear, her free hand on her lower back, and fingers circling around his hole. 

“Oh _yes.”_

That’s when he feels it. She’s touching him from the inside—her power stroking his prostate. Once, twice is all it really takes. A stream of nonsense passes between his lips; Saint’s vision goes white as he comes into her hand, spilling out into the water.

“That—“ he gasps. “That was—“

“That,” Galahad smiles, resting her forehead on his, “is what's probably called inappropriate use of Force.”

“I love it,” he moans, bringing her down for another wet kiss. Slipping a finger down into the very core of her, he finds his _cyare_ slick and ready for him. He needs his mouth on her immediately.

Breaking the kiss, he turns lays out the towels to try and get her a little bit more cushioning. When she asked what he was doing, Saint just gave her a smile and said, “Oh, you’ll see.”

Galahad yelped as Saint’s arms wrapped around her and quickly--but carefully--deposited the startled Healer down on the towels.

“Saint…?” She looks down at him, pupils blown wide with arousal. He swallows as more blood flows to his cock, trying to find the right words.

“I’d like to kiss you—down there.” _C’mon, di’kut, more than that._ “I want to eat you out until you cum on just my mouth.”

Hazel eyes darken with want. “Light, Saint, you’re always so good. Always so good to me.” Now he’ll have the chance to prove her right, and he so looks forward to that. She leans back, finding a steady position and spreads her legs for him.

He thinks about being wicked about it, taking things slow, and kissing his way up her legs. Open-mouthed kisses on the inside of her knee, teasing her slowly and working his way upwards. No, no, he was too impatient for that. The trooper dove mouth-first into his beloved’s slit, her thighs encircling his head.

She murmurs praises that flow between Basic and Ciilyri, and he’s drunk on them, chasing that high as he takes her apart with his mouth. Dragging his tongue over her clit, circling the nub of flesh as she moans and tugs at his hair. He only comes up for air when his lungs scream in protest--the Kaminoans probably didn’t imagine this application of his survival training--and to tell her how delicious she is.

  
“You’re,” she pants, “you’re just being--ah!--nice.” He’s a little disappointed in himself that she still has to coherence to talk. Ah well, practice makes perfect, as they say.

“You taste like sex, _cyar’ika,_ what could be better?”

It feels like he’s been there for hours--yet nowhere near long enough--when Galahad’s hips start to buck, bringing his face that closer, his tongue that deeper. Saint loves it, loves having his mouth used like this. Drunk on the pleasure he’s giving her, he adds a finger to the mix.

Galahad comes screaming his name, and gripping onto his head like she was trying to smother him. He lapped up her release like a cat with a bowl of cream, small shallow licks on her sensitive folds. Saint hadn’t been lying--he did think it was the best taste in the entire galaxy. He could die between her legs—suffocating as she sat on his face, drowning in her cum—and would die a happy man.

As for now, though, he presses one last kiss to her core before pulling himself up onto his forearms. Wrung out and half-boneless, she can’t do anything but whimper in displeasure as he leaves. It wasn’t for long though, he just needed to pull himself back up onto the shore to lay down next to her. She reaches out and pulls him in close to her.

She starts to run a hand through his hair, and all he can think about is how much he loves her.

“I love you too, Saint,” she whispers, and he can feel the certainty of it sink down into him. His _baar’ur_ , his Galahad loves him, and he loves her, and for a moment he can pretend that it’s all that matters.

Eventually, they’ll have to get up. Eventually, they’ll have to get dressed, and head back to camp and prepare themselves for whatever came next in this hellscape of a war. But for now, they could have this, and each other.

art by filenel on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> So I used Welsh for the native language of Ciilyra, Gal’s homeplanet, because Arthurian legend springs from Welsh mythology.
> 
> Ciilyri/Welsh translation:  
> fy nghariad — my darling
> 
> Mando’a  
> baar'ur--medic, (in this context it's his affectionate nickname for her)  
> cyare--beloved/loved  
> cyar’ika -- Sweetheart  
> di'kut--idiot
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this! I know I did...


End file.
